


you work at a smile (and you go for a ride).

by Prettything_uglylie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Days, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Pointless, Short One Shot, The Losers Club Do Not Forget (IT), The Losers Club Stay in Derry (IT), young adult losers club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: Mike's classes had not been atrocious that day but it had just seemed like a difficult day - luckily, Bill is there.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	you work at a smile (and you go for a ride).

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this! I was just thinking about it as I was writing a fic and I love them, especially the idea of Bill in big glasses!

It was not necessarily a bad day, his classes had been fine with him able to keep up and write it all down but his head had been busy and he had been more bummed out than usual - something Richie had been quick to notice, elbowing him and jesting about the fact before growing concerned through the course of their shared History class. 

Mike remembers being surprised Richie likes history but he had been surprised by the loudmouth often in their group, especially that Richie liked _numbers_ \- he had a knack for dates and math classes that could make Stan jealous. 

That day, Ben had not been on Mike's other side and the chair had felt obscenely empty. Another odd thing.

But after trekking through a few feet of snow to his apartment slightly off-campus, he was relieved to see his beloved boyfriend draped over their couch. Bill was in a trance, typing actively at the keyboard of his Acer Chromebook in a way that Mike recognizes as being the face he has when he's writing book ideas down or drafts for a full novel. 

He looked, Mike sighed as he set down his bag in their doorway, absolutely adorable. He was curled up on their sectional - a couch Bill had invested in with money his parents wire-transferred him every month rather than loving their kid; god, Mike hates the Denbrough parents - in a large sweater on his thin frame and he can see the edges of Bill's jeans and socked feet poke out from the blanket over his body. His face, however, was the most adorable part, surrounded by sleep-crumpled hair and headphones steadily pumping music into his ears, but wrapped around the shell of Bill's ears were large retro round circle metal glasses that encircled Bill's large eyes sweetly, even pursed as he wrote and his lips held the ghost of a smile across them. 

He is a bit of a sucker for Bill's round glasses, even if his boyfriend doesn't technically _need_ them. 

However, either realizing the time or becoming aware of another's presence, Bill's cerulean blue eyes glance up at him beneath the slight metal wire but when he sees Mike, the intense focused but wary look in his eyes morphs into excitement and more than a bit of glistening fondness. 

"Hey, Mikey." He pulls the headphones from his ears by the cords and belatedly Mike thinks about how that could hurt his lover if he wasn't careful but Bill is glowing there and Mike wants nothing more than to curl around him and hold him for a bit. 

He lets his shoulders sag but he smiles gently, making it clear he isn't upset with Bill and nods vaguely at the lying form, "Lecture got canceled?" 

Bill shifts, pulling himself upwards and for the first time, Mike is able to place the sweater when he sees ' _Derry, Maine. Football'_ on the front and his heart swells sweetly with the idea that Bill is wearing one of his sweatshirts, he gestures beside him and Mike begins to rid himself of his wet or snow-ridden clothes and accessories. 

He paddles over to Bill and when he lays on Bill's lap, head settling carefully in the gentle curve of the stuttering boy's thigh, and the rest of his body laid on the couch, Bill had already set his laptop aside to cradle Mike's face with gentle fondness and pet his hair in a way he knew from Bill's panic attacks, the other boy found calming. 

"You want to talk about it?" Bill's voice is a small whisper, unwilling to break this steady moment of quiet understanding either and Mike shakes his head before explaining in a bored small tone, 

"Just a long day, you know?" 

Bill nods, absolutely understanding that before looking thoughtful and admitting, "Not for me. We Zoom-called it because Professor Jareau gets nervous about driving in this weather." 

He laughs, the space warmer than summer days, than fire, than the burn of alcohol or the sweat of a run - no, this was one of those warmths that come from inside, the ones that make him sure that Bill is ascended from Hestia, able to build a hearth of this burned-down church body and feel warm for a boy who has always been scared he runs too hot. That he will set fire to everything he loves. 

Bill teaches him he can use the fire to mold and heal and help more than destroy. Bill teaches him that fire has an alternate purpose than killing.

He leans up to kiss Bill before joking, "It's like... a foot of snow." 

"Scares people." He shrugs, laughing as well and pets the gentle roughness of his thumb against Mike's cheek, "You're cold?" 

Instead of answering, he slides the palm of his cold hand up the burrowed jumper on his boyfriend to make him feel the absolute chill of it and Bill squeals at the touch, the cool press freezing against his warm skin and he shifts under Mike's head and torso. He doesn't try his hardest to escape, or he simply can't but neither of them are bothered by this. 

"Point proven!" Bill shouts as a sort of mercy call and Mike relinquishes, pressing his broad palm to the skinny indent of his boyfriend's waist outside of the sweater before burying his face in the material, enjoying the way he can feel Bill's muscles and torso through the sweater vaguely and in a way that feels tantalizing, like he's one of those 18th Century black men who can't get caught staring at a rich white person, let alone a white boy. It's stupid but he thinks of all the stories that nonetheless. 

That is not their story. 

"This is mine." 

"It is." Bill sounds smug and amused but fond and glorious and Mike wants to die here. 

He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what part of him says, "You look sexy in it." 

Bill laughs a shocked giggle that morphs into an amused thing that makes him bite his lip and Mike wants to bite that same generous pink lip, "You...are taking points from Richie. But thank you." 

_Of course,_ he thinks, looking up at Bill's glistening baby blues and his dorky wireframes and his gentle bow lips and the gentle indent between his furrowed brow. At the way his football sweatshirt hangs off of Bill's more lean frame. Mike thinks he is beautiful and will die reminding him of that fact. 

He knows he's staring, he can't help but stare. Bill is just so beautiful. 

It makes his boyfriend blush and look away.

His voice is warm, "What do you say I make us hot chocolate?" 

Mike grins and hopefully asks, "And read me whatever you're working on?" 

Bill's returning smile lights one of those good fires in his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Kudos and comments are nice and very appreciated!


End file.
